<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Let Sleeping Serpents Lie by AV_Dragnire, squiddz</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27677726">Let Sleeping Serpents Lie</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AV_Dragnire/pseuds/AV_Dragnire'>AV_Dragnire</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/squiddz/pseuds/squiddz'>squiddz</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aziraphale Is Trying (Good Omens), Bad Snake Puns, Get A Wiggle On Zine, Getting Together, Includes Art, M/M, Post-Canon, Snake Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:34:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,920</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27677726</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AV_Dragnire/pseuds/AV_Dragnire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/squiddz/pseuds/squiddz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale had long been in the habit of collecting books about snakes, for reasons that were probably best not examined too closely. He'd picked up this particular title—Snakes: The Charmed and The Charmer—from a charity shop, under the impression that it was the story of a torrid cross-species love affair (again, best not thought about too much), only to find that it was, somewhat disappointingly, a guide to amateur snake keeping. His mind still occupied with thoughts of Crowley coiled up asleep for who knows how long, Aziraphale opened the book and flipped through the water damaged pages.</p><p>---</p><p>After the thwarted Apocalypse, Crowley settles in for a long nap and Aziraphale takes it upon himself to transform his flat into the perfect snake enclosure.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>404</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Get A Wiggle On Zine</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Let Sleeping Serpents Lie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My SFW contribution to the Get A Wiggle On Zine! I had the fabulous privilege of collabing with the very talented <a href="https://www.instagram.com/ami.v.dragnire/"> AV Dragnire</a>, and their art is included in the fic below! It links out to their Instagram post, so go show them some love because the illustration is GOREGOUS and exactly what I imagined that scene to look like. Many thanks to the wonderful anti_kate for the beta, and once again for being an amazing zine mod along with summerofspock and sungmee.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the grand scheme of things, three days without hearing from Crowley wasn’t anything to be particularly concerned about. They’d gone years without speaking in the past, centuries even. Three days was just a drop in the six thousand-year-old bucket. Aziraphale forcefully reminded himself of that fact as he paced about the bookshop. A few days without Crowley stopping by for a drink and a chat was perfectly normal.</p><p>Except that things <em>weren’t</em> normal anymore, not after everything at the airfield—and certainly not after they’d hoodwinked both Heaven and Hell and lived to tell the tale. They were free to spend as much time together as they liked now, and Aziraphale had been confident things were heading in that direction. There’d been lingering looks over the table at the Ritz, the brushing of a hand against the other’s as they walked back to the bookshop. The idea that their celebrations might continue well into the evening was thrilling.</p><p>But when Aziraphale had invited Crowley inside, he’d declined.</p><p>“Think I’ll just head home, actually. I’m pretty shattered after everything.”</p><p>“Oh,” Aziraphale replied, swallowing his disappointment. “Right, yes, I suppose that makes sense. Been an eventful few days, hasn’t it?”</p><p>Crowley had given him a tired smile and a little wave in return, and then disappeared into London foot traffic. With nothing else to do, Aziraphale had retreated into the bookshop, and spent the next few days sweeping up the bits that had chipped off his heart and shoving them under the rug.</p><p>However, there was only so long Aziraphale could agonise over every word he’d said to Crowley that day, or panic over every worst case scenario. And, he supposed, he really owed it to Crowley to be the one to make the first move, so to speak. Before he could convince himself otherwise, he marched all the way to Mayfair until he was staring down Crowley’s imposing front door. He tried knocking several times, but when no answer came, he miracled the door open and stepped inside.</p><p>The flat was dark, and a steady current of occult energy flowed through the corridors, streaming out of some wellspring deep inside the flat. Aziraphale sighed in relief. At least Crowley was <em>here</em>, and not dragged off to Hell by some vengeful ex-coworker. He followed the trail through the maze of hallways until he came to a room, where he could just about see a shadowy figure lying on an enormous bed. Aziraphale faltered, suddenly aware that this was very definitely Crowley’s bedroom, and opted instead to remain standing in the doorway.</p><p>“Crowley?” he asked, fiddling with his waistcoat. When nothing stirred, Aziraphale took a few tentative steps inside. “I’m awfully sorry to barge in here like this but it’s just… well, it’s been a few days. I just wanted to check you were alright, that’s all. I suppose I’m still a bit jumpy after everything and—”</p><p>His train of thought fizzled off as he took another step closer and at last caught sight of Crowley. Instead of his familiar human vessel, an enormous snake took up the entirety of the bed. He was twisted into a pile of black coils with the large diamond of his head resting on top, yellow eyes open and unseeing, shining like flames through the gloam. Aziraphale let out a long breath, shoulders slumping as he deflated completely.</p><p>“You wicked thing,” he said, fondness bleeding in at the edges of his voice. “You had me worried for days and this whole time you were just taking a nap.”</p><p>He walked carefully around the bed to adjust the blinds and then made his way back to the bedroom door.</p><p>“I’ll…I’ll let you get some rest then, shall I?” he said over his shoulder. He gave himself one last look at the glittering black helix curled up amongst the rumpled sheets before he headed back to Soho.</p><p>Back at home, Aziraphale tried his best to distract himself by rearranging his books. He’d been meaning to get to it ever since he’d noticed the rather unusual additions Adam had made to his collection, and now seemed like a perfect time to get elbow deep into the logistics of whether to group things by century or geographical origin or how many E’s were in the title.</p><p>Hours went by and Aziraphale eventually found himself sitting in the middle of the shop floor surrounded by piles of old paper and leather. Not until the street lamps flickered to life outside did he realise he hadn’t even stopped for dinner. He briefly pondered inviting Crowley to come with him to try out the new Thai place down the road, but the twinge in his chest reminded him that there would be no dinners out with Crowley for a while yet. Just as he was getting ready to fish out the takeaway menu, one of the books on the floor caught his eye.</p><p>Aziraphale had long been in the habit of collecting books about snakes, for reasons that were probably best not examined too closely. He'd picked up this particular title—<em>Snakes: The Charmed and The Charmer</em>—from a charity shop, under the impression that it was the story of a torrid cross-species love affair (again, best not thought about too much), only to find that it was, somewhat disappointingly, a guide to amateur snake keeping. His mind still occupied with thoughts of Crowley coiled up asleep for who knows how long, Aziraphale opened the book and flipped through the water damaged pages.</p><p>He wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for—it didn't seem likely that the author had included a section on "how to care for the snake demon you've secretly been in love with for millennia"—but he pored over it nonetheless, until he came to a section about pythons. He had no clue what type of snake Crowley was, or if he was even a type of snake that had ever actually existed on Earth at all. According to the book, pythons were big and long, and that sort of demarcation of the species had been good enough for Linnaeus, so Aziraphale settled on that and didn't put the book down until he'd read the entire chapter.</p><p>As it turned out, pythons had very specific preferences for things like humidity and temperature. Aziraphale thought back to the night he'd spent in Crowley's flat, how the heating had been cranked up high even though it was August, and wondered if the ambient temperature in the flat was maintaining itself while its owner slept. Possibly not. And that simply wouldn't do. Before he could talk himself out of it, Aziraphale was already back in Mayfair and letting himself into Crowley's apartment again.</p><p>He found the thermostat and gave it a thorough talking-to, ensuring it held a steady 25 degrees Celsius. The air in Crowley's bedroom also suddenly found itself quite laden with moisture as Aziraphale willed it to the appropriate humidity. After adjusting the blinds once more for good measure, he went home, hopeful that all his worries about Crowley had now been laid to rest.</p><p>He had all of two hours peace before he was worrying over the state of Crowley's flat again. The guide he'd been using was rather old, published some time in the mid-1960s, and it seemed very likely that snake care had evolved since then. He'd be remiss if he didn't try to find some more up-to-date literature—at least something published this century. He waited until the sun had risen and the shops had opened again, and headed over (begrudgingly) to his nearest Large Chain Bookshop.</p><p>A bit more reading around the topic revealed that pythons liked hiding in dark corners (which, Aziraphale mused, likely explained a few things about Crowley and his choice of living space) so on his next visit later that day he set to work decorating the bed. The sleek metal bed frame became a four poster bed, which made it easier for Aziraphale to drape dark fabric over the entire thing and turn it into a burrow of sorts.</p><p>Then came the foliage. He wasn’t going to bother with plants, but he’d coaxed the battered old computer in the bookshop’s backroom to connect itself to the Internet (much to the surprise of the dormant Amstrad PCW9256) where he’d found a helpful blog about terrarium design, delightfully titled <em>The Boa Constructor</em>. After scrolling through pages and pages of beautiful enclosures, he found a very helpful article on <em>Non-Toxic Plants That Will Keep Your Snake Satisfied! </em>and was completely sold on the idea.</p><p>He located the plants that already existed in Crowley’s flat, hoping to simply transfer the snake-appropriate specimens, but every time they came within ten feet of the bedroom, they trembled so much that Aziraphale feared they might shake their leaves clean off. With that plan nixed, he headed to a local nursery to pick up some new, relatively untraumatised plants. He spent the rest of the afternoon arranging pots of geraniums and hibiscus and umbrella plants, encouraging unnatural growth rates with some angelic persuasion.</p><p>Of course, the introduction of the plants meant that Aziraphale had to increase his visits to twice daily, to open and close the blinds and ensure they received adequate light. </p><p>Then he read that access to water was important for snakes. Crowley had been sleeping for over a week by then, and if he were to wake up, he’d likely find himself quite parched. With a bit of potting soil pilfered from the plant room, along with a good deal of miracle work, one corner of the room became a lovely pond full of clean water. Snakes also liked having rocks to bask on, and bits of wood to climb over, and after all the stress of the last few months, Crowley deserved some species-specific leisure time. Before he knew it, Aziraphale had managed to create the world’s smallest jungle right in the middle of London.</p><p>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <a href="https://www.instagram.com/ami.v.dragnire/"> Art by AV Dragnire</a>
  </p>
</div><p>The whole thing gave Aziraphale a routine, something he’d been desperately missing since the universe had thrown an Antichrist amongst the pigeons. At first light, he would head out to his favourite patisserie to enjoy a croissant and some coffee, before swinging over to Mayfair to open the blinds and give Crowley’s bedroom a thorough misting with the spray bottle he found on his desk. After consulting the hygrometer to check that the moisture levels were appropriate, he made his way back to the bookshop for an afternoon of pottering about. Once evening rolled in, he picked out whatever restaurant near Crowley’s block of flats caught his fancy, and then made another visit to his impromptu terrarium to fiddle with the lighting and give the plants some encouragement.</p><p>Aziraphale tried not to let his attention linger on the streak of black scales coiled up on the bed. However, after three weeks of coming and going, his resolve finally cracked and loneliness got the better of him. After having closed the blinds one evening, he sat himself down on the edge of the bed. He cast his eyes over to Crowley’s head where it rested on the sprawling spiral of his body, to the unblinking yellow eyes that were somehow both painfully familiar and completely foreign. Aziraphale wondered if Crowley felt the same way when he looked at his human face in the mirror.</p><p>“I’ve always been rather jealous of how well you took to sleep,” he said after a while. “Never really quite got the hang of it myself.”</p><p>He turned his head to stare at a corner where the leaves of a Pothos tumbled down from a hanging basket. “They’re putting on <em>Othello</em> at the Barbican next week. I know you think it’s one of Shakespeare’s dreary ones, but I had hoped we might go see it together.” He fiddled with his ring nervously. “Actually, I had hoped we might do a lot of things together, now that we’re on our own...”</p><p>The words dried up in Aziraphale’s mouth. There wasn’t much use moping around in the dark, so he stood up with a weary sigh and started to leave. </p><p>He was nearly at the door when he heard the sound of something sliding against the silk sheets. Then Crowley groaned—a tired, guttural, <em>human</em> groan. Aziraphale froze where he was, and slowly turned around to face the bed again. Crowley was sitting upright, hair sticking out at all angles and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with a pair of limbs he hadn’t possessed only moments earlier. Just as Aziraphale was pondering whether it was possible to discorporate from embarrassment, Crowley caught sight of him and nearly fell over backwards.</p><p>"Nnngggghh— 'zurraphale?"</p><p>Aziraphale approached him, hands held up as though placating a wild animal. "Crowley, I—I—I'm sorry, I can explain." He paused, realising that was, in fact, not true. "I just… well, I didn't hear from you for days! I was worried so I came here, and then I found the book about snakes and the humidity and… well, I just meant to keep an eye on you while you slept! Make sure everything was just right, and then the people on the internet suggested lights and plants, and admittedly I went a bit overboard but I—"</p><p>“Aziraphale.”</p><p>Aziraphale’s mouth snapped shut immediately. He watched anxiously as Crowley blinked a few times, taking in the full scale of the renovations that had taken place in his room.</p><p>“Did you… do all of this while I was sleeping?”</p><p>“Erm, yes,” he replied, looking at the floor sheepishly. “Suppose I needed something to keep me busy without you around to talk to.”</p><p>“I can’t believe all thi—is that a <em>water feature</em> in my bedroom?”</p><p>“Yes!” Aziraphale exclaimed, distraught at how utterly ridiculous the whole thing was. He flopped back down on the corner of the bed and put his head in his hands. “I don’t know how it all got so out of hand.”</p><p>“Angel, no, that’s not what I meant!” He heard Crowley shuffling a little on the bed sheets, and when he next spoke his voice was much closer. “I…I really like it. In fact, I don’t know when I last felt so comfortable in my own skin. It…it means a lot that you’d go to all that trouble for me.”</p><p>Aziraphale looked up into Crowley’s now human eyes, and saw something terribly vulnerable flash behind them. He swallowed, trying to summon up the courage to speak.</p><p>“Truthfully, I think I was just looking for an excuse to be around you.” He took a steadying breath. “I missed you.”</p><p>The words hung heavily above them as they sat in silence for a moment. Then Crowley breathed a quiet <em>oh</em> and fidgeted closer.</p><p>“Aziraphale, I was just giving you some space.”</p><p>“I invited you in, Crowley. I’d hoped I’d made it clear that I wanted you around.”</p><p>Crowley made a strangled noise that sounded like laughter caught in the back of his throat. "I assumed you were just being polite. I didn’t… I didn’t want to go too fast.”</p><p>Something inside Aziraphale’s chest ached, and he reached out for Crowley’s hand, soft and sleep-warm. “My dear, I think our days of going slowly are behind us now.”</p><p>Aziraphale wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly Crowley’s lips were on his. The kiss was sweet and unhurried, a gentle touch that filled Aziraphale's veins with a bright golden warmth. When at last they parted, they pressed their foreheads together, and Crowley sighed faintly.</p><p>“Well, that was worth waking up for.”</p><p>“I rather agree.” He gave Crowley’s hand a squeeze. “I can get rid of all this if you like.”</p><p>Crowley pulled back and gathered Aziraphale’s hand in both of his. “Please don’t. I meant it when I said I liked it.” He stifled a yawn and laughed. “Could actually nap a few more days in here.”</p><p>“Oh, well that’s… that’s good, I suppose.”</p><p>A mischievous grin split across Crowley’s face. “But I do have one request for an addition to my new habitat.”</p><p>“Oh really?” Aziraphale asked, helpless to stop the smile tugging at the corners of his own mouth. “And what might that be?”</p><p>Crowley brought Aziraphale’s hand to his lips and brushed them against his knuckles. “You.”</p><p>Aziraphale felt his chest swell. “Hmm, I think that could be arranged. Though I’ll need to make some accommodations of my own.”</p><p>With his other hand, Aziraphale snapped his fingers and a few stacks of his favourite books appeared by the side of the bed. They rearranged themselves until Aziraphale was sitting up against the headboard, propped up by a stack of pillows, while Crowley curled up beside him with his head on his lap.</p><p>Just as he opened his well-loved copy of <em>Paradise Lost</em>, Crowley lifted his head to give Aziraphale a quizzical look.</p><p>“Hang on, did you say you went on the internet?”</p><p>“Oh yes, I’m quite the surfer these days.”</p><p>“How did you even manage that? You need a computer.”</p><p>Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “I <em>have</em> a computer.”</p><p>“You have a fancy paperweight.”</p><p>“Well,” Aziraphale said, pursing his lips. “You’ll just have to come and see it for yourself when you wake up.”</p><p>Crowley hummed and burrowed his face into the side of Aziraphale’s thigh. “It'll be all I’ll dream about, angel.”</p><p>Aziraphale ran a hand through Crowley’s hair and returned to his book, but not before giving the humidity in the room one last check.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you'd like another light-hearted and somewhat snake-adjacent fic, then try <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/21621805">Deading the winter's near</a>! I also have a NSFW contribution to the zine, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27648031">In The Midst Of The Garden</a>.</p><p>Come say hi on <a href="http://heavens-bookshop.tumblr.com">Tumblr</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>